


what light through yonder window breaks?

by alishakes



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Early Mornings, M/M, Post-Canon, look bro i just wanted to write some domestic akusai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 11:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19105909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alishakes/pseuds/alishakes
Summary: In the soft hours of the morning Isa falls in love all over again.





	what light through yonder window breaks?

Morning light breaks through the window, the sky itself streaked by cool beams. Through a crack in the curtain, a sepia toned smile washes over the pair of them- tangled between sheets and slow breaths and that lingering sense of comfort. Of security. For a moment, a single instant, everything is calm in the calm hours of the morning. Light slithers in to illuminate a strip of the bed where their bodies meet- a leg nestled between or an arm flung aside. Their skins glow under the sun's attention, the gentle kiss of the morning star.

Isa slowly comes into awareness, rising alongside the sun itself. He nestles deeper into the warmth of the cocoon the two have made for themselves, settling into the reassurance of body heat. He keeps his eyes shut, afraid of the illusion of sanctuary being shattered, of the rug being pulled from under him. Afraid of being the wolf all wrapped up in bloody sheepskin, parading around, masquerading a tame creature. So he keeps his eyes shut, ears to his shoulders, making himself small and unhearing.

The body next to him shifts, sniffles, in sleep. Isa burrows deeper as the body rolls towards him; he refused to see the fingers twitching as if in reach. The body inhales and then droops into the mattress, slack, dead asleep.

Isa knows that Lea sleeps like the dead, rising for nothing and nobody.

Pointed nails emerged from the duvet's confines, pulling the cover back and down. First a forehead, then a scar, then eyes and nose and mouth and chin peeked out from hiding, almost timidly.

Isa took in the sight before him.

Suddenly the sunlight seemed dimmer, filtered by the shock of soft hair blocking the stream. The light bent around the obstacle, the vibrant hue of his hair warming the fresh light of morning and casting a rose-tinted glow on the two. First light's innocent indifference was tainted (blessed) by the gentle curls it found along its journey. Isa found himself thanking nothing in particular that Lea hadn't braided his hair the night before. His eyes traced the graceful sweep of hair, from root, to length, to tip. From the baby hairs tickling the frame of Lea's face, to the thick lock tangled around Lea's neck, cradling the neck, caressing the damn thing.

Right in that moment, Isa wondered how he ever tried to hate Lea. Because, by god, did he try. With every ounce of the heart that was ripped from him, Isa tried to resent Lea, to turn him away, to rip him apart with words and to make him feel the sting of betrayal that Isa (Saïx) did.

He wondered how he ever even pretended to hate Lea, use his real name as a weapon, use their past to twist it deeper, use their connection to salt the wound. He wondered how he allowed himself to be so blinded by jealousy and rage, and then by the yearning to feel those emotions again.

He wondered why hatred and Lea even crossed his mind as something that should even be connected, since, in that moment, the only thing he knew for sure was that he loved him. 

Lea was very slowly beginning to wake up, sniffling almost inaudibly. Isa stared directly into the lightly freckled face of the sun, watched it twitch and twist minutely. Eyelashes fluttered against the shadows they cast, their natural dark brown turned golden around the edges. Later, they might be slicked and groomed a deep black with mascara, rimmed with khol. But for now, they cleanly flickered. 

Isa guilty looked away; he wasn't given permission to look into the sun like so. Because god he was the sun, the steady beacon. In the morning light, Isa felt raw, scratched open, newly born under the advent of the day. Maybe he was just burning up, wax wings or sharp fangs melting away into nothingness under the gentle heat.

Isa's vision floated out of his daydream, eyes landing straight on Lea's own tired green eyes. They dimmed slightly despite the light, but latched onto Isa with a tired fervour. And Lea's blinking away the sleep from his vision, getting clearer every second, and his attention is becoming more focused and he's staring at Isa like _he_ _hung the fucking moon and isn't that ironic in its own way?_

As the green eyes scanned Isa, almost like he was affirming his presence, Isa realised he'd never been more grateful for the absence of yellowy gold in Lea's own eyes.

Isa froze in place, transfixed, vision tunnelling on pure beauty. He found himself unable to look away, feeling unworthy, unable to behold such beauty. Choking on the swell of emotion seizing his chest, wrapping around the column of his throat, Isa couldn't comprehend how he ever so much as acted like-

How he acted like he was anything other than utterly, uselessly, completely in love with the vision of wonder before him.

How he acted like he didn't need with the force of a heart that he didn't even have.

How he acted like he wasn't hating himself with everything he had for turning away from the sun itself into the blackened night.

How he thought, for even a second, that he could live without pillow mussed fire like hair and sunrises and a content inhale-exhale beside him. Without Lea's smile, that soft and tired little thing. Without a whispered "good morning" floating from the confines of Lea's slightly parted mouth. The greeting settles into the bunched fabric, while the little promise behind it gets captured in a bubble and floats and shines in the morning light.

Throat catching, breath hitching, because Isa can't respond. He's never been good with words until he's spitting them out like little curses, like painful lies. So he pulls Lea's too warm hand into his own, the slide of his fingertips across a palm, the envious moon feeling inadequate, the touch feeling like a perversion until their fingers lace together, Lea's hand tangling with Isa's. An assurance.

Cradling their knot of hands to his chest, Isa swears he can feel his heart beat through his chest. It wants to beat away, break free, rip apart the confines of a body and nestle itself in the comfort of heat. So Isa moves their hands up, higher, closer. Knuckles drag along his body, keeping their connection as tight as possible. Breathing too heavily, he cuts himself off by pressing a gentle kiss to each of Lea's fingers. Lips skim pointed knuckles and bony joints and each press is a promise and an apology and something else entirely.

Lea just smiles knowingly; he's always known.

Lea disentangles their digits, reaching with an open hand to card through Isa's hair, pulling him apart with every stroke. A fleeting thought dances around Isa's brain, soft realisation dawning on him. If Lea were left just to be, he'd burn so hot and so bright; he'd put the day in night. Night's heavy cloak couldn't even block out his glow. 

But here, in their bed ( _ their bed, isn't that something _ ), he's the blanket of warmth in their little bubble. He's the soft touches and heated promises.

Lea is the morning light breaking through the window, and Isa feels warmed to the bone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about the excessive allusions to shakespeare i just really like romeo and juliet.
> 
> also, everyone in the discord is a damn enabler and shouldn't let me get emo over akusai.
> 
> this isn't intensely edited because i needed to get my Feelings out of my system, so sorry if the expression is weird at times!!!


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